


Skip, Divide

by hariboo



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-23
Updated: 2010-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariboo/pseuds/hariboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five instances where Juliet and Sawyers paths crossed and one prelude to a coffee date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skip, Divide

The conference is in Portland and she's sitting at the hotel bar watching the rain.  
   
It doesn't bug her, like she's sure it bugs most people, after all she's from Miami and hurricane season is nothing to joke about. Here in Portland though, it's a different type of rain; a steady stream of water that covers the city in a mist that Juliet thinks is almost kind of pretty and rather calming. Miami's rains are different. They come at you unexpectedly and drench you with their warm drops before they keep moving, leaving you with only the humid air and sun to dry you. The rain doesn't last long, and more than half the time it is wind and lightening. In Miami, rain sneaks up on you, coming in small bursts or long sessions that force out umbrellas. It's always a surprise, even for the oldest Floridan, when the rain lasts longer than a few hours, but in it's unpredictably it's just like Portland, she thinks. Here people are used to it--it's a small and strange comfort of knowing. Back home it's a small and strange comfort of not (knowing). Rachel always said it was in the _not knowing_ that made life interesting.  
   
Juliet has always liked knowing. She always liked figuring things out. How Things Work was one of her favourite books as a kid. It's probably why she went into medicine.  
   
The hotel bar is wood panelled and cosy, with it's soft yellow lighting and the old jazz tunes that filter through unseen speakers. She thinks about Rachel back home and then reminds herself to stop worrying.  Rachel will be fine. Rachel will be fine, she repeats, a mantra, wishing she could be on a plane home already.  
   
"Can I get you another drink?" She hears and tears her gaze from the rain streaming down the glass to the bartender. Glancing down at her drink, she curls her lips at the melting glass and nods.  
   
"Yes, please. The same." She gives him a polite smile and feels a little flattered when he blushes and grabs her empty glass, moving down the bar.  
   
The interruption takes her out of her thoughts and she turns to take a look around the bar. It's mid-afternoon and she can see several of the conference goers scattered about, as well few business men, and a few others who she assumes are hotel guests. The normal crowd for a place like this except, there, the couple in the corner. They look like hotel guests, she gathers, but there's something about them, something about the way they stick to the corner they're sitting in, half blended into the shadows. She doesn't know why, but they capture her attention. It's the way the man is leaning forward, his hair is blocking his face but she can see strong shoulders and dark blonde hair as his companion leans into him in an action that clears a lot up for Juliet.  
   
She laughs, low and surprised. She didn't think it was that kind of hotel.  
   
She brings attention to herself and she presses her lips together when the man looks up from whatever he'd been saying or doing that was making his companion so happy.

He's practically on the other side of the bar and the lights are low enough that she can't really see any details, but she can feel his eyes as they look at her. She can't tell if she's holding his gaze but she doesn't look away, not willing to look guilty about anything. His hand is curved around his companion's neck but he's staring at her and god, it's insane but this is the most turned on she's been in ages.   
   
The cool air of the bar has suddenly shifted into something decidedly warmer and Juliet wishes for her empty glass of ice.  
   
Then, the bartender is there, handing her the scotch and tonic water she's been nursing all afternoon. It's not her normal drink, but she needed something strong after the monotonous lectures of the conference, and she has two more to go.  
   
He smiles, "Anything else, ma'am?"  
   
"No, thank you. I'm fine." She nods back, signing the bill and charging it to her room. She takes a slow sip, letting the diluted scotch smooth down her throat. Out of curiosity she looks back towards the couple to find them gone. She frowns and finds her disappointment odd and ludicrous.  
   
She tells herself exactly that and shakes her head at her own silliness.  Swirling the contents of her drink with the thin plastic straws, she goes back to looking at the rain.  
   
—  
   
There was a blonde at the bar, he remembers, in the early morning after a night of sex and booze. The mark — a red head with a rich husband who's banging the pool boy and is laundering money out of his company — is passed out next to him, crowding his space. He slides off the bed and moves across the room. Portland is grey in the morning and running a tired hand through his hair, he thinks back to the night before.  
   
Pretty blonde at the bar last night.  
   
He hears the sheets on the bed rustle and turns back to the bed with a smirk. The woman gives him a sultry smile and puts all other thoughts out of his head.  
   
When he returns to the bar that night with the same woman — lady got them a suite for the weekend while he worked her case; fun times, shame he'll have to bust her husband soon — there's no blonde to be seen. He really isn't disappointed; it was just a random pair of legs after all. Still, he keeps looking towards the spot she had been last night.  
 

 

——

  
 

**ii.**  
   
   
She gets called to  LA for a consult. After the success with Rachel, the mice, and taking over the lab after Edmund's death, she's become quite the celebrity in certain medical circles. It's tiring and she misses the cool solitude of her lab and being able to breathe. She's asked for consults all the time now; she's asked to perform miracles.  
   
After the first year and realising that she had barely seen Rachel or the baby since her research came to light, she began a thorough screening process. It's funny how many people don't need a fertility doctor, but just want her name. She's called a healer when she isn't being called a monster. It hurts more than it should.  
   
Rachel just reminds Juliet that without her, she wouldn't be a mother.  
   
This case though--it's a special one. This woman, Sarah, had been in a car crash years ago, she was almost paralysed and half her uterus was removed. Juliet had warned the family it was almost impossible to get pregnant again, but they hadn't cared. They wanted children. So here she was, in LA, reminding the Shephards of just how difficult these upcoming months were going to be for them.  
   
When she arrived at the hospital, she was shuffled towards a spacious office and asked to wait. Tapping her fingernail against the leather covered arm rest, Juliet takes in the office.  
   
Simple, yet professional. A few knick-knacks here and there and there's a shelf full of "thank you" cards. Not that many pictures though. She's waiting for about ten minutes when the door behind her opens.  
   
"I'm sorry I'm late, surgery ran over." Jack Shephard is tall, with greying hair and a tired smile.  
   
Juliet stands and smiles, "It's fine."  
   
"My wife is on her way, she's very excited. We had almost lost hope to have kids." He sounds so expectant, like his life's happiness depends on this being a success.  
   
Juliet swallows, "I hope I can help."  
   
A very long meeting later, Juliet leaves the hospital and sighs. The Shephards would be good parents, they would clearly love their child, but they're overly dependant on this being a success. She warned them it would be a long, difficult road ahead but she's just not sure they understood how hard it could end up being. Stepping into the sun, she fishes for the keys to her rental in her purse, Jack Shephard didn't seem the type to give up even when the odds where against him. Sometimes this was a good thing. Juliet hopes this is one of those times.  
   
Getting into her car she decides to drive to the beach instead of going back to the hotel.  
   
—  
   
The beach is quiet.  
   
It's the middle of the week in April, most kids are still in school and their parents at work. There are still a few teenagers anyway, probably skipping classes, and a couple of surfers, but the waves aren't cooperating with them. She takes off her shoes and decides to take a walk along the shore. The sand is cool and slips through her toes as she walks; she loses track of time.  
   
At one point she passes a heavy set man with wild curly hair, sitting on the beach reading a comic book and almost has the urge to join him. Just to sit by him and watch the ocean. Juliet shakes her head at herself and that fanciful thought.  
   
It's a different ocean that she's looking out on and she feels something tug at her from its horizon. Something is out there--she feels it as plainly as she feels the wind and the sand and sun.  
   
Turning her back on the horizon, she heads back up to the parking lot. Her silver rental shines in the sun, the asphalt burns her and she slips her shoes back on. Opening the car door, the wind pushes her hair back towards the ocean, but Juliet doesn't turn for one last look. She has another ocean waiting for her back home. Another ocean and before she starts the engine she flips her cell phone open and calls Rachel.  
   
—  
   
The Santa Monica pier has many restaurants, mostly for tourists, and they all face the ocean. He makes sure his table doesn't. His table faces the parking lot and pier. They block out the wide blue expanse from his eye line. He's never been a fan of the ocean—too blue, too big, too much mystery out there. He likes to know where he stands.  
   
Tipping his beer to his lips, his eyes catch a strand of yellow by the parking lot. He focuses on it.  
   
It's a woman. Tall and blonde. She's using her car for support as she slips on her shoes. It makes him smile, following the long line of her legs. The wind blows her hair around her head, but she ignores it and just opens her car door, it makes him smile wider. Why? He doesn't know.  
   
She slips into her car and after a few minutes she drives away. The silver Lexus disappears from his view and he has the crazy idea to follow it. To follow her.   
   
James laughs at himself and finishes his beer. He needs to get laid.  
 

——

   
**iii.**  
   
   
Humming to herself, Juliet lifts her eyes up from her notes, looking across the park to where Julian is happily playing on the jungle gym. She's babysitting for the afternoon as Rachel runs errands, glad for the break from sterile lab environments and hospitals. He's such a darling boy, and she's been so absent in his life lately. Work has been crazy and getting crazier by the day. People are constantly expecting miracles from her.  
   
It's a draining label to have attached to her: miracle worker. Especially when the miracle doesn't always happen.  
   
Juliet closes her notebook and leans back on the bench, taking in the Florida sun. Julian is currently making his way across the monkey bars, his tiny legs swinging widely as he moves. Chuckling, she passes a hand over her forehead and makes her way over to him.  
   
His light laugh as she grabs him by the waist and spins him around makes her feel more like a miracle worker than half of her success stories. Her nephew's laugh and his shining blue eyes fill her with more purpose than the checks that the lab receives in her name. She tickles his tummy and flips him upside down as he calls her name and giggles as she swings him right side up.  
   
Hoisting him in her arms, she settles him on her hip, "Feel like lunch yet, sweetie?"   
   
"Oh! I want ice-cream!" Julian smiles widely, his tiny arms around her neck.  
   
Juliet pretends to think about it before giving in, "And maybe some milkshakes at Johnny Rocket's?"  
   
Julian nods happily as she sets him back on the ground. He continues to regale her with today's stories from the playground while she gathers up her things, before heading back to the car.  
   
As they leave she hears a little girl yell happily for her daddy. Juliet turns at the sound and sees the girl, maybe no more than four or five, launch herself at a tall, sandy haired man. The sun blocks out his features, but she can hear his laugh. It's deep and full and makes her lips quirk.  
   
Before she can explore the feeling further, Julian tugs on her hand and asks if they can rent "Finding Nemo" again. Juliet smiles down at her nephew, telling him of course they can. Unlike her, he loves the story of the little fish lost at sea.  
   
—  
   
Miami is the kind of city he could get used to. It's warm and his baby girl lives here. He still can't believe this is where Cassidy decided to settle down, but at least it's not LA with its earthquakes and smog. Part of him still can't believe he's back in Cass and Clementine's lives, but about half a year or so ago, he woke up from a deep sleep that left his chest feeling tight and hot and the first thought in his mind was of the baby girl he had walked out on.  
   
It didn't take long to track Cassidy down , and somebody up there must really like him because she didn't slam the door in his face when he showed up unshaved and a little hung-over.   
   
He guesses having a stable job, one that he can be proud of, helps with that.   
   
Cassidy still doesn't really trust him, but she lets him see Clementine whenever he rolls into town, which he tries to do every other month. One of the few blessings in his life is his baby girl and she seems to love him as much as he loves her. He only hopes to God he never lets her down, like all the other women in his life.  
   
So far he's been doing good, he thinks, as she jumps into his arms. Her hair flies around his face and he can't help but laugh at her enthusiasm. Securing his hold on her, James presses an over the top kiss on her cheek, which makes her giggle and do the same to him.  
   
"Hi, Daddy!"  
   
As her giggles die down he smiles , "Hey there, baby girl, how's my favourite gal?"  
   
They make their way to one of the nearby  benches and he listens, honestly fascinated, at his little girl's tales. On the bench next to him is a sheet of paper. He picks it up, distracted and barely glances at the neat penmanship on it. There're numbers and words he remembers from high school biology, but this is definitely much more advanced than anything he'd ever seen in high-school.   
   
It's then that Clementine chirps, "Daddy, can we watch 'Finding Nemo' tonight?"  
   
He blinks and looks away from the paper, crumpling it and stuffing in his pocket like an afterthought.  
   
"Sure, Honey Pie, anything you want."  
   
That night as he stretches out on Cass's couch, the paper from the park falls out of his pocket and lays forgotten on the floor.  
   
The next day it gets swept up with the rest of the trash as he and Clementine go to lunch at the Grove. They pass by Johnny Rocket's without a second thought.  
 

——

  
 

**iv.**  
   
Layovers have to be a preview of what hell must be like, Juliet thinks as she watches the time tick away until her flight. She had gotten back from the conference in Melbourne two hours ago and she still had two hours to wait until her flight to Miami. Slipping her heels off , she curls and uncurls her toes, marking her place in her book before setting it aside. Her coffee has passed the age of being lukewarm and is now just cold and too sweet. Sipping it is mostly done out of courtesy for the liquid than actual taste but she does so anyway, just for something to do.  
   
Over the speaker she hears that flight 815 from Sydney has landed and has a moment where she feels like she can't quite catch her breath. The moment passes.  
   
The seconds tick by and she downs the remainder of her coffee. The cup feels hollow in her hand afterwards. Smiling, Juliet slips her heels back on and crosses the waiting area to toss it in the trash. She has one eye on her belongings which is why she doesn't see the man coming her way.  
   
It's ungraceful, their collision. The cup falls to the ground and apologies are exchanged without even looking at each other. Their hands reach out for the empty cup at the same time, and this stranger's hand reaches it first.  
   
"Apologies, love, I wasn't minding where I was going," comes a smooth accent she identifies as Scottish.   
   
Standing, she faces the stranger and is met with warm brown eyes and an easy smile.  
   
"It's fine, I wasn't looking where I was going either."  
   
His smile grows into a grin, "Well, aren't we a pair?" He extends the cup to her, "I believe this is yours."  
   
"Not for much longer, I was just going to throw it out." She nods to the trash can behind him.  
   
The man looks behind him, "In that case allow me, it's the least I can do after all."  
   
"Oh, you don't have to do that—" Juliet reaches out to stop him for reasons based out of politeness more than anything else, but it's too late and the cup is in the trash, where she intended it to be.  
   
He turns back to her, and bows his head, "I believe we're even now."  
   
Juliet laughs quietly and nods, "I guess we are. Thank you—"  
   
"Desmond. Desmond Hume." He holds his hand out, smiling.   
   
She takes it. "Juliet Burke."  
   
They speak amicably for a few minutes when the announcement comes over the PA system calling airport security. As Desmond walks away, she side steps a few people before sitting back and waiting for her flight to arrive. It feels like something important has just happened, but for the life of her Juliet can't figure out what.  
   
—  
   
He's making his way to the elevators when out of the corner of his eye he catches two people bumping into each other by trash can. The coffee cup falls and both reach for it. To him it seems something right out of a movie, but there's something about the two people involved. The man seems familiar—he thinks he recognises him from the plane—and the woman is a looker by all standards possible, long legs in heels and a pencil skirt that sparks more than a few memories of bars in Portland.  
   
As he passes them he hears their voices, and the woman laughs quietly. He hears a "thank you" and watches as strangers become acquaintances. Funny how that happens in the strangest places.  
   
The elevators are barely five feet from them and he watches until the doors ding open.  
   
One floor down things get interesting.  
 

——

 

  
**v.**

   
"Sorry, but is this seat taken?" someone whispers above her. The accent, Southern and silky, washes over her.  
   
Juliet looks up from turning her phone on silent to face the smiling face of man with dirty blonde hair that looks as out of place in the auditorium as she feels. She got to the school late, the play already underway, and took a seat in the back. She spotted Rachel a few rows in front sandwiched by other proud parents and she can already hear the speech she'll get later for her sister about being late. Rachel's not normally a stickler for punctuality but when it comes to listening to the gossip of soccer moms, her sister can get snippy.  
   
Blinking, she realises she still hasn't answered the man's question, and she scrambles to grab her bag from the chair next to her.  
                                                                                                   
"Yes, of course. Sorry," she whispers back, settling her bag on her lap.  
   
"Thanks," he slips into the seat, eyeing the stage.  
   
As the play--the third grade tribute to the Everglades--continues, they sit in the companionable silence of strangers at the theatre. Juliet grins when Julian comes on stage and claps a little harder than she does for the other children, but she doesn't care, well aware she's biased. Her neighbour spares her a glance and she knows she hasn't hid her bias at all, and it makes her wonder which kid on stage he's clapping for.  
   
"That one yours?" she barely hears from her right, and half turns to answer.  
   
"Sorry?"  
   
"The gator, he yours?"  
   
Juliet smiles, "Not quite, I'm his aunt."  
   
"Aunt, really?" The man cocks an eyebrow and Juliet is glad for the dim lights because she's sure she's blushing.  
   
"Why?"  
   
He shrugs, eyes flicking between her and the stage. "You don't look like an aunt."  
   
She quirks her lips, "But I look like a mother?"  
   
Something tells her that this isn't the type of man that flusters easily, which is why the chuckle and shake of the head she receives makes her feel oddly proud.  
   
"Touché, Blondie."  
   
Now it's her turn to chuckle, "Aren't you a little old for nicknames?"  
   
He turns towards her, a cocky grin plastered on his face. "I'm young at heart."  
   
She laughs a little too loud, and looks around the auditorium cringing, as the man snickers. Thankfully, no one seems to notice as the kids start a song. Julian waddles in his alligator costume and she has to smile at her nephew, her attention distracted by the man next to her for a second.  
   
"He's looks like you."  
   
Juliet nods, "It's the hair." There's a pause in their conversation as the kids all speak out at once; Julian does a little jump on stage that tugs her lips into smiles. She turns back to the man as the kids file out and a ten minute break is called. The lights go back up but she doesn't move from her seat, comfortable in this strange conversation.  
   
"So, which one is yours?"  
   
There's a second where his face goes to steel and then there's a sigh, smile, and the accent deepens. "The flamingo with the pigtails."  
   
Juliet looks over to the empty stage, and her mind's eye  flashes a picture of dimples and pink. "Cute."  
   
"Yeah, she is."  
   
She feels generous so she extends a piece of knowledge she thinks he would appreciate. "You haven't missed her solo yet."  
   
He looks over at her, and a tension she hadn't even noticed before drops from his shoulders. "Thanks—"

"Juliet."  
   
"James."  
   
—  
   
By the time the lights dim again he knows she's a doctor and when he tells her what his job is she presses her lips together to prevent the smile that is creeping up her face, but he catches it anyway. Most people don't laugh when he tells them what he does, but there's something about her polite not-smile that he finds charming.  
   
"Most people don't laugh when I tell them that."  
   
She runs her finger over her lips as if she's erasing her smile, "Sorry, I just don't get _cop_ from you—"  
   
"It's okay, nice to know that people can still be surprised."  
   
She nods and they watch as the kids come out on stage. Clementine is the fifth out and the smile and pride that goes with it is automatic at this point. He can see she's looking for him and he raises his hand up to wave and let his girl know he didn't miss her moment. The toothy grin he gets in return is worth the red eye he took last night.  
   
"She really is cute," Juliet whispers as one of the other kids steps up and begins their little monologue.  
   
"You were lying before, Blondie?" he gives a look.  
   
"Didn't remember much besides the pink."  
   
He nods, "That is a lot of pink."  
   
"Well, flamingos."  
   
She's got a point there. They go back to watching the play and when Clementine's turn comes up he claps for the first time. Next to him, Juliet claps a little harder than is required. It's nice of her, and he almost wishes that her nephew had another turn up there so he could repay her. She looks over at him like she knows what he's thinking and winks.  
   
He might need to start showing up to more of these school things.  
   
After the play finishes and the standing ovations are done, they turn towards each other. They smile. Juliet slips her bag on her shoulder.  
   
There's a curl to her lips he likes having put there. "It was nice to meet you, James."  
   
"You too, Aunt Juliet."  
   
"Cute," she shakes her head and looks towards the door. "I should be heading out, but

," she pauses looking back at him, smiling, "I'll see you around."  
   
He nods his good-bye and watches her go for a minute, before turning to look for his daughter. He might have to start making sure he's in town more often.  
 

——

   
**coffee.**  
   
She's leaving the hospital, done for the day, and not for the first time she questions her choice of shoes. Digging through her bag for her keys she doesn't even notice the smiling figure leaning against the entrance.  
   
"That's how accidents happen you know."  
   
She looks up and squints against the sun. "James?"  
   
"Hey there, doc, fancy meeting you here." He's pushes up from the wall and heads toward her, his stride confident and quick. He's in front of her in seconds, blocking out the sun.  
   
"I work here," she says, even though she already suspects he knows. She suspects that's why he's here, then she feels foolish for her fanciful thought.  
   
He smiles, dimples flashing, "Yeah, I know that."  
   
She can't help but smile back, "Oh? Can I help you with something? Though I should tell you my speciality with male pregnancies starts and ends with mice."  
   
"Already talking about getting me pregnant without even a cup of coffee between us. You move fast, Blondie," he smirks.  
   
Tilting her head, she shifts her stance to face the parking lot again, "Maybe we should remedy that."  
   
She starts walking and only for second does she feel his hand brushing against her as they leave the partial shade of the hospital's entrance, the bright sun shining heavily on their backs.  



End file.
